TW/CW: religious trauma, self destructive tendencies

i didn’t mean to sell my soul to the devil. the

words were mixed in the comic book, an

d i was playing them on my tongue, processing

them in my mind, producing them like a con

demned symphony. i asked my mom

how to get it back, but she said, shouldn’t

have tested the lord, honey. like, mom,

it’s too late for that, said, h

ey, what’s a few more times?

struck some deals with the one i’d hea

rd would never get tired of the challenging, to

try to win some soul back, light a match, spark

a fire, fuse myself to life’s risks and gambles,

not that i was well equipped to do what i nev

ver meant to in the first place. my toughest fights,

i fell into for the grounding, myself. deprived

of a choice to not anymore, i’d lie on the tile floor, and

imagine myself from above. up there, i’d spare a gl

ance for the ceiling cracks and think about trying to

slip through to heaven—as though i coulda ditched that bod

y when it was resting, recovering, so precious. it was like

the first i’d learned of what it was really about, this

whole being alive ordeal. my body saying, f

orget my mind, and, bless it, determining to survive.

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Lydia Rae Bush (she/her) is an Early Childhood Educator whose poetry focuses on Mental Health, Social-Emotional Development, and Trauma Recovery. Her work can be found in publications such as Ink Drinkers, The Open Culture Collective, and Overcomer: Breaking Down the Walls of Shame and Rebuilding Your Soul. linktr.ee/lydiaraebush